Boxes
by stopaskingkeepdancing
Summary: Crackfic. Spinoff of LolliDictator's unit manual fics. America x OC. Rated M for language and sex.
1. lol there's a fucking box in my hallway

**A/N hurrdurr guise. I love America so goddamn much. Reading those manual fics (courtesy of LolliDictator [.net/s/6547042/1/ALFRED_F_JONES_User_Guide_and_Manual]) got me so excited. Yes, I know I'm pathetic OTL. But ohhh well! AT LEAST I HAVE MY IMAGINATION ;_; Just to be clear, the parts about the manual were written by LolliDictator, that genius. So I'm not claiming ownership or anything.**

**Also lololol the cat's name is Ammer. Because... well... AMMER IS MY SECRET LOVER, DON'T TELL ANYONE SHH. I-I mean, the real person named Ammer (it's Amber acually but we all call her Ammer hurrr) not the imaginary cat Ammer because that would raise quite a few questions not to mention eyebrows.**

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She lived a nicely furnished one-bedroom apartment, in a college town in the great old USA. Despite the size of her home, she had decorated it well. You can say all you want about the IKEA nesting instinct, but being able to design her home so it was just what she liked was one of the small pleasures she got from life. Another small pleasure? Hetalia.

She wasn't a raging weeaboo by any means. That was eighth grade, her wapanese phase. She'd long since outgrown her love of all things anime (and her social awkwardness), but she still enjoyed the occasional show. Hetalia, (mostly the english dub) with it's jokes about hipsters and those stereotypes that hit home but made her shake with laughter. So when she'd stumbled upon something about getting free Hetalia "units" to test out, she'd just regarded it as a joke and nothing more. Sure, fill out a form and recieve an attractive robotman to do with as you like? Ha ha, great, very funny, just the kind of funny thing that you'd find if it was associated with Hetalia. What she didn't expect was for a huge box to show up in front of her door two weeks later. She'd come home from work to find the monstrous crate nearly blocking half of the hallway. With some difficulty she'd amazingly managed to shove it inside of her apartment door. How this feat was managed she'd never quite know, because once it was inside she could barely close the door, and had to climb over the box to access the further parts of her home.

That's where it had been for nearly an hour now. She'd skimmed over the instruction manual inside the envelope taped to the top of the crate, which had declared her the new owner of an Alfred F. Jones unit. Try as she might, she couldn't confirm this fact because she couldn't open the damn box. No matter how hard she tugged at the edges, the top of it (the only side with enough available space to open) just refused to move. She hopped up onto the kitchen counter, grabbing the instruction manual once again. Reading more carefully this time, she located instructions to open it.

_**Removal of your ALFRED F. JONES from Packaging:**_

_Your ALFRED F. JONES unit is a happy, energetic unit - for the most part - and there are rarely any problems with waking him up. It is impossible to accidentally knock him into a dangerous mode when removing him from his package; the most you need to worry about is him being too happy and energetic. In order to avoid that, we have provided you with a few ways that you can wake him carefully and get right to work on any reprogramming you might want to do!_

_1. Play the American national anthem, or any patriotic American song. Loudly. Your unit will respond immediately, singing horribly out-of-tune until the song is over; you can reprogram him during this time, and the faster you do this the faster he'll stop singing._

_2. Put on a kid's superhero show or movie (preferably Superman or Batman) loud enough to be heard down the street. Your unit will whine for you to let him out of the box, and will run to the television as soon as you do. While he watches, you can reprogram him; however, be warned that if your chosen superhero is prone to striking heroic poses, your unit might jump up and do them as well._

_3. Speak with a British accent or in Russian. ALFRED F. JONES will reply positively to the first one, and a little coldly to the second, but he will get up anyway._

_4. Turn on his Tony unit. He'll insult you, ALFRED F. JONES will wake up shaking with laughter, and you'll be able to reprogram him then._

Sweet. She didn't have the national anthem just hanging around on her ipod. Neither did she have DVD's of superhero shows. And a Tony unit? No idea what the fuck that was. Looks like it was British accent time. Terrible British accent time.

"Uhm... w-would yew loike some fish n' chips, love?" she said out loud tentatively, cringing at how stupid she sounded. However, her fail accent must have done the trick. She was rewarded with a vague shuffling noise coming from the box. "Britian, dude! What the hell's goin' on, huh?" she heard an enthusiastic voice say, followed by the sounds of ripping cardboard as the top of that infernal box popped off. A head popped out from the top, his blue eyes meeting her emerald green ones, saying "Hey! I... whoah, who are you?" She had to admit, he was kind of cute. He was goddamn America, in fact. "_Countries are cute, yeah, makes perfect sense. What the fuck, man, how are countries even people anyway? I don't even." _She shook her head to clear her mind, replying "Oh, hey. Well, I'm Alexandria. Which is a seriously dumb name, I know, so you should just call me Alex. And what's your name, huh?," even though she knew the answer to her question already. She bit her lip. She couldn't help it, he was seriously really, really cute. And his goddamn eyes. Blue-est damn eyes she'd ever seen. "I'm Alfred! And I don't know I came to be here, but whatever! Do you have any food? I'm like, starving, dude! I could really go for some Mcdonalds!" If she kept talking she swore she'd probably jumping, so she turned away hiding blushing cheeks. "Yeah, yeah. There's a Mickey D's right around the corner, bro." she said, busying herself with untangling a pair of headphones that lay upon the flecked counters. "Alright, let's go!" Alfred said, jumping out of his box to reveal a full six feet, dwarfing her 5'4" figure. He kicked the cardboard box out of the way and looked at her expectantly. Alex smiled and grabbed her wallet.

Despite being late spring, it wasn't too cold outside, so while he had taken off and left at Alex's house his trademark bomber jacket, Alfred hadn't changed out of his simple black tshirt and dark-wash jeans. Alex, too, was wearing dark-wash jeans, the only difference was hers were skinnies. Up top she wore a thin black cardigan and a simple blue tanktop. _Nearly the same shade of blue,_ she thought to herself, _as Alfred's eyes. _Ugh. There she went again, going all teenage-obbsessed and dwelling on little things. She was pathetic. Again she shook her head, tossing her honey-blonde, shoulder-length hair about as the golden arches of Mcdonald's came into view. Alfred was visibly excited. When they entered, he almost elbowed his way to the front of the line before she stopped him. Reluctantly on his part, the pair went behind the two people at the first cashier.

Finally, they ordered quickly, he a double cheeseburger with large fries, and she just a regular hamburger. They ordered to-go, and with their purchase packed up in the paper bag they headed home. She handed his food to him as they walked; she doubted he'd be able to wait. And indeed, he seemed to enjoy the food, taking bites with great relish with occasional mutterings of "Mmm," and "So gooood." Alex kept silent. This afternoon was just a whole bag of strange events all in quick succession.

When the pair returned to her apartment, they had both finished their food. Alfred made himself at home, collapsing onto her sofa that she had so carefully pficked from the catalog. He grabbed the closest xbox controller and the television remote, turning on both of them and creating a new account. Well, you had to hand it to him, he knew how to make himself at home. Alex watched him for a few minutes, smirking, and as he started a new campaign in call of duty she went to the kitchen, busying herself with washing her breakfast dishes. She hummed to herself and immersed her hands in the warm, soapy water in the sink, while the instruction manual for Alfred lay open to the side of the sink. Apparently he came with different clothes. _Like a full-size barbie doll_, she thought, smirking. After finishing most of the text before her, she nonchalantly swept the manual into the trash can. She wouldn't need it. Alex had fabulous recall abilities, and she would use this to remember how to change modes. Oh yes, she'd abuse her power, very much so.

After she'd finished her dishes, she wandered out into the living room and sat in the black leather armchair that was placed kitty-corner to the sofa. Alfred was still absorbed in Black Ops, so she put her ipod headphones into her ears and totally rocked out as she thought about sleeping arrangements for the coming night. It was very, very tempting to make Alfred sleep in her bed. In fact, she was very nearly sure that she would manipulate him using his Cowardly mode. Ohoho, she was a deviant one. Still smiling (she seemed to have made a habit of it today) she got up and opened the door to the linen closet in the hallway. She pulled out a nice, comfy pillow and a soft high-pile blanket for Alfred. As she did so, her kitten, Ammer, (who must have been sleeping in Alex's room up until now,) twined herself around Alex's legs. Alex picked up the little orange tabby and nuzzled her. Damn, kittens smelled good. She supposed it was cat spit or something that made them smell so nice, which is wierd if you actually think about it but if you smell a kitten then you know what I'm talking about. Ammer clawed up Alex's shoulders (with much wincing on the latter's part) and sat on her shoulder. Alex d'awwed inside of her head because kittens do such cute things all of the goddamn time, and picked up her treasures from the linen closet, shutting the door with her foot. She went back into the living room and unceremoniusly dumped the blanket and pillow onto Alfred (who gave an indignant "Hey! Not cool!" as his view was temporarily blocked.) "That's for you, mmkay? Unless you want to take my bed, because I'll sleep on the couch too." He paused the game and looked up at her. _DEM EYES._ "I couldn't do that, dude! Aren't heroes supposed to be chivalrous?"  
"Yeah, _heroes._ Not you~"  
"Hey! I'm totally a hero!"  
"Yeahh, sure. But whatever, it's you're back that's on the line."  
He scowled and turned back to his game. She let him play for a moment, but a glance outside told her that it was getting dark. Movie time. She tapped him on the shoulder.  
"Hey. Let's watch a movie."  
He seemed to accept this idea easily. "Yeah! A horror movie!" Ha. It was all going according to plan.  
"Whatever you saw, Alfred~" she said in a sing-song voice. She snatched the controller from him and went to the xbox dashboard, selecting netflix. She didn't pay attention as she chose a movie, she just randomly went to the Horror section. In fact, she didn't pay attention to the movie at all. Her thoughts were on dat ass. Alfred, however, was completely immersed in the movie. And as the music got darker and deeper and so-and-so turned into a zombie or whatever the fuck was going on, more and more fear ran through his mind.

_Finally,_ the movie was over. Bidding her new roommate good night, Alex strolled into her bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack for her cat and _any other bedroom guests,_ if you catch my drift huehuehuehuehue. She changed out of her clothes into a white tanktop and black shortshorts. She tousled her hair as she turned off the light and climbed into bed, snuggling down into the soft sheets. _Any minute now,_ she thought smugly. She was so clever it scared even her sometimes.

She was right. It wasn't long before a knock came at her door, and it definitely was not her cat because cat's don't knock on doors, they just barge right in. Faking tiredness, she raised her head and drawled out, "Yeeahh...?" His shaky voice returned from the other side of the door, "Um, Alex? C-can I maybe sleep with you t-tonight maybe...? I mean, not _sleep_ with you or anything like that! I-it's just...uh...well, the couch isn't comfortable at all, you know what I mean, haha?" She smiled in the dark at his obvious lie, and replied, "Oh, sure, have at it..." He opened the door and flicked on the lights. Squinting at the sudden brightness, she could see he'd changed into just boxers. _Just boxers. _**HOT.** Still blinking, she patted the space beside her on the king-sized bed and motioned for him to come over. "Don't just stand there, c'mere, and turn off the damn lights." He did as he was told, and her heart skipped a beat as he slid into the bed next to her in the darkness. She snuggled up to him, and heard him gasp softly, not expecting the sudden touch of her body against his. Spooning, she nonchalantly whispered "Oh, I hope this is okay. It's just a little cold in here is all, I hope you don't mind~," smirking as she said this. "O-oh, yeah, it's fine..." After a few seconds, he slowly, awkwardly, put his arms around her body. She relazed in his arms. It was all going according to plan. Not really, because only wierdos make plans to seduce hot guys of course trolololo! And Alex was certainly not a wierdo, fersure! Both of them drifted off to sleep, and it was impossible to know who enjoyed their closeness more.

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**A/N So ends the first chapter of my crackfic. I really, truly hope that not alot of people read this, because I sound like a huge fucking retard who lives out my desperate fantasies with America through my fanfiction huehuehuehue. NOT THAT THAT HAPPENS AT ALL OF COURSE HURRR. **

**Chapter two to come when I stop being a lazy fuck.**

**Actually, I'm kind of proud of myself. I've really enjoyed writing this, and I've barely even taken breaks at all~**


	2. because it's cool to be a whore

**A/N Yeah guise. If you haven't already, make sure you go look at LolliDictator's profile and fanfics. Because she is fuckin' AWESOME.**

**Also bahaha it gets _really_ full of sex in this chapter. BAM, GLORIOUS COCK. Yeah.**

**I am so glad that people I actually know IRL won't be reading this, and if they do they won't know me. Because man, I am just terrible huehuehue. Enjoy.**

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Alex woke up first. She was a definite morning person, no joke. She stopped for a moment to gaze upon the sleepy Alfred in her bed. Damn, he was cute. Humming cheerfully, she fed the cat and went into the kitchen. She searched the fridge and found the eggs, which were motherfucking Eggland's Best because bitches gotta have the best eggs in their breakfast routine. Setting them on the counter, she pulled a pan out of the cabinet next, and set it on the burner of the oven and turned in on. She also stuck to english muffins into the toaster. **(A/N yeah I know, _english_****muffins, but trust me they're delicious despite the name.)** While she waited, she turned on the news. Look at that, some news. How interesting. The sizzling pan brought her back out of her amazement at the actual news being on the news whoahh. She cracked three eggs on the side of a bowl, and added some milk. She was making scrambled eggs. **(A/N Listen up people, because this is the way you make motherfucking scrambled eggs mmkay? It's a story and a recipe in one, goddamn I am so clever also I think the fact that it's four in the morning is just making this fanfic better and better.) S**he whipped out a fabulous fork and whisked the shit outta them eggs until they were a beautiful golden color and had mixed completely with the milk. She poured the mixture into the pan and whipped out her fabulous spatula, stirring the eggs quickly because if they stick to the pan they will burn and then they taste gross. The eggs solidified after a while, and she scraped them out of the pan and onto a plate. The english muffins happened to pop out of the toaster right after that, and they scared her so she jumped. Smiling at her momentary twitch, she pulled them out of the toaster and threw the onto the plate as well, because they were hot.

Alfred, yawning and still in **_only boxers omfgomfgomsdnfsohotkjdnfjdsn just kidding he had also put on a white tshirt bro _**joined her in the kitchen, apparently awoken by the delicious smells of eggs and fancybagels. "Finally you're awake, sleepyhead!" Alex chastised. Alfred grinned and rubbed his eyes. "Can I have some?" he asked. "Yeah bro, I made it for both of us." Alex replied, hugging him around his middle. **(A/N DON'T BE A PERV IT'S THE ONLY SPOT SHE CAN REACH YOU KNOW. IT'S NATURAL FOR THE ARMS YOU SEE.)** Like last night, he stiffened slightly **(A/N NOT HIS DICK YOU SICK FUCK)** from the sudden contact, but relaxed and embraced her as well. She noticed he smelled pretty damn awesome. So that was a plus. They broke away and she pulled out another plate, dividing the contents from the other plate equally. She and Alfred sat at the table and ate quickly (as most people do when delicious breakfast is involved.) Once they were done, she washed the dishes as he hopped up onto the counter and watched her, chatting.

"Soo..." he began. "I suppose you're going to work soon, yeah?"  
"Nope." she replied. "I don't have a job."  
"What? How do you have so many nice things then, dude?"  
"Inheritance mostly. My father died when I was very young, in a car crash. My mother died three years ago. Cancer."  
"Oh man, that must blow, eh?"  
"Not really. I never really knew Dad, but Mom was kind of a bitch. I mean, I do miss her. And I cried and all. But my life is probably better now."  
"Oho. That's...nice."  
"It is, isn't it." she muttered. "Anyway, point is, we can spend all day together~" He blushed. Fuck yeah, she made him blush, life mission = accomplished.

-Later.(like nine hours or something. IDEK.)-

Despite her uncertainty in the beginning, Alex was totally diggin' the fact that there was a hot guy now living at her house. And she was totally going to fuck him, no matter what. They were currently cuddling on the couch together, watching television. At least, Alfred was watching television. She was nodding off. Midday always got the best of her, forcing her into powernaps even when there was no need for one. There was a plus side to naps. While she rarely dreamt while actually sleeping, she always had dreams when napping. Vivid dreams. _Very_ vivid.

"Alfred...oh god, you're so fucking hot." His lips moved down her body, kissing and biting and licking and sucking all at once. He just smiled, that goddamn smile. Christ on a bus, he was damn sexy. She smirked, and flipped over suddenly, stopping his bombardment of kickass lip action. "My turn." she said, licking her lips. She kissed and sucked his neck, surely leaving hickeys that would last for a week. She worked her way down, down, down, and bam. Glorious cock in front of her face. She poked out her tongue and licked his head slowly, and moved down his hard shaft. She took him in her mouth and suck, rotating her tongue around his head and bobbing up and down. She moved her hand up and down his shaft, too. His moans gradually increased in volume and length, until after nearly twenty minutes he came in her mouth. She swallowed and wiped her chin, and smiled up at him. He...

"Alex. Alex, wake up."  
"Wha-...?"  
"You were...ah, you were dreaming..." Alfred said, blushing.  
"Oh fuck. What did I do?"  
"Uh, how about we just forget about it, okay?" he replied, laughing nervously. She couldn't forget it though. She'd probably been moaning his name, like a fucking wierdo. That's how it always went in books, **and wierd fanfiction stories.**

However, she knew one thing. She wanted that dream...TO BECOME **REALITY **_DUN DUN DUNNNN._

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**A/N lol guise, please don't hate me for being a total faggot. IT'S SIX IN THE MORNING, AND I'M WRITING SEX. SWEET. FUCK MY LIFE.**


	3. aaaand, it sells to be a slut

**A/N Wow. Please don't hate me for being such a fag, guys.**

**This chapter, while completely stupid, is dedicated to my cousin Rachel who was recently diagnosed with down syndrome. Hetalia really makes her happy, and I hope this puts a smile on her face. Love you Rachellll :3**

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Alfred was collapsed on the bed, snoring softly. Sitting beside him, Alex was on tumblr, doin' her thaaang when she heard shrieking noises from next door. Ugh. It was those two 'tards from next door- FUCKIN' AGAIN. She was pretty jelly, because while those two kept getting tail, she was left so care for a superattractive, but rather useless, Alfred. All he did was snore, look good, and eat. Oh, and increase her electricity bill by like 9000%. That bitch neva eva turned out the lights, and she was forever trailing after him, turning out the lights as he left rooms. She wanted a piece of that ass in exchange for all she did, and she was gonna get it. She closed her laptop, and set it beside her on the bedside table.

And she kissed him.

It took about three seconds for Alfred to wake up and realize the situation, and four more seconds to stop kissing back.

"W-what the hell!"  
"I know you enjoyed it."  
"That was out of nowhere! I...I don't even... Why..."  
She pouted. "Why not?"  
He sputtered, "You don't just do that to people!"  
"Pff. Whatever. You liked it." And she got up and walked out of the room, hips swaying, leaving Alfred lost for words at her sudden bizzareness.

_"Fuuuck, I did _not_ just do that."_ she thought once she had left. What the fuck had come over her? And why, why_, **why** _the fuck did she answer him like she did! _"I know you enjoyed it!"_ THE FUCK, MAN. She had **ninety nine problems **already stacked up on her plate, and it looked like Alfred was one too, now. Also, there was a problem about her being a whore. So that was there too.

Alex usually liked to clean. And cook. And do other traditionally domestic chores, especially when she was stressed. They calmed her mind, and made her home beautiful. Sparkling. Spotless. The rare visitor always commented on the perfect uniformity of every single picture frame on the wall, every single chair perfectly aligned at the table. And if stress (and retarded decisions) were an indicator of how clean her house was, then the introduction of Alfred into her life would just about make her home into Clorox heaven.

Speak of the devil. As she'd been organizing the food in the fridge (and planning for the pantry next) he'd walked in. Blushing, looking the teensiest bit awkward, he half-smiled at her. She returned the lukewarm gesture and stepped aside to allow him access to the fridge, (which, since she didn't want to make daily runs to McDonald's, she had stocked (along with the pantry) with all the makings of french fries, hamburgers, and various carbonated sodas.) They both sidestepped awkwardly, and Alex moved to sit on top of the counter.

"Hey." she said.  
"...Yeah?" His tone indicated something like, "What more surprises could there be, huh?"  
"I'm sorry about this morning. Well, not really. I'm sorry that you didn't like it, I guess..." she muttered.  
"I...I was just surprised... I didn't say it wasn't bad or anything..." He blushed madly, and she felt a rush of **AWESOME, LEVEL ONE PASSED.  
**The small victory still ringing out in her head, she spoke louder, saying "Mmm, so I can do... this?"

She hopped off the counter, and standing on her tip-toes, kissed him again. Deeper this time. His lips softened against hers as they embraced. **(A/N Woww this part sounds really dumb trololo. LIKE A ROMANCE NOVEL OR SOMETHING HUEHUEHUE.) **They broke apart, but this time with an air of satisfaction about Alex.

"Yeah, that was just fine."

_"Fuck yeah." _she thought, smirking.

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**A/N IT SELLS TO BE A SLUT~**

**I feel kind of dumb writing parts of these. Like when you go into a library and read those really stupid novels about BEAUTIFUL SUSAN OR WHOEVER THE FUCK IT IS and DASHING PRINCE DIPPER THE THIRD who don't have sex, they MAKE SENSUOUS LOVE AND TEACH EACH OTHER THE SECRETS OF PASSION. Yeah. Those kinds. **

**Also these chapters keep getting shorter and shorter teehee.**


	4. MANADA

**A/N I don't really have anything to say here, but since I've done author's notes so far I just feel like I need to keep doing it ;_;**

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"Ugh," Alex muttered to herself as she walked down the main apartment hallway to retrieve her mail. "They're at it again."

And indeed, her neighbors with mysteriously high libidos _were_ at it again. "It" being constant banging on the walls and occasional swears. Sexin' it up. Alex, who had woken up unusually early to the cold of her bedroom (due to the fact that Alfred had somehow managed to curl up in such a way that sharing the sheets were impossible.) was _not_ in the mood for that crap.

Stomping over to their door in bare feet, and knocked angrily several times. The door flew open almost immediately, and she found herself looking at a pretty girl with light green eyes and shoulder-length, blonde hair.

"Excuse me," Alex started scathingly, "Would you _mind_ keeping it down a little? Your little 24-hour-a-day whorehouse isn't exactly as fun to the people who have to hear it as it must be to you."

Looking confused, the blonde tilted her head slightly to the side, replying, "Whorehouse? What do you-?"

But she was cut off as a very familiar-looking figure walked up behind her, carrying a hammer and sporting several band-aids around the finger area.

It... It was Canada. He looked so similar to her own Alfred, but he was so manly. And why the fuck was he holding a hammer? **(A/N MANADA MODE, ANYONE?) **

The blonde girl looked back and forth between Canada and Alex several times, and a conclusion seemed to come to her mind.

"Oh! You thought- the hammering... That was just Matt! He's been rather... uh, manly lately. He's been fixing up the apartment left and right. Unfortunately, he does it, as you said, 24-hours-a-day. Even I've had trouble sleeping, and I can usually sleep through anything."

Alex's face turned red, and she stammered an apology "Oh my god, I-I'm so sorry! I didn't realize! That was some pretty bitchy stuff I said, I am so sorry..."

Luckily for Alex, the girl laughed. "It's fine. I can see how you'd think that, haha. I'm Kaylee, by the way. And this is Matthew. He's my... Well, he's Matthew."

"Nice to meet you, then. I'm Alex. I guess I'll see you around then, yeah?"

"Absolutely. Bye!"

Shaking her head at the absurd chain of events that had just unfolded, she returned to her own home to find Alfred up and awake, drinking a glass of Coke. "Alfred!" she greeted him, "Did you know that Matthew Williams lives next door!"

"Haha, yeah, we totally went out drinking the other day, shit was so cash! But then he started talking about chopping down trees, so I just left. Why? Didja meet him?"

"Yeah, and I sort of accused Kaylee of being a slut, a little bit maybe...?"

_"Nice!_ I thought I was the only person who would do that!"

"Well, obviously not. Thanks for telling me about this before I made a complete idiot of myself, babe."

"No problem!" he replied, waltzing off with his drink in hand. She shook her head in awe.

As if on cue, the banging from the hammer started up again. She smiled to herself. She needed to get Alfred a hammer. _(MAKE THE BITCHES JELLY.)_

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**A/N Oh god guys, these chapters keep getting shorter and aoihfslkhjfklsdjf I don't even know what to do, don't hate me.**


	5. SHE'S NOT CRAZY, GUYS

**A/N I got a little bored writing just about Alex, so I'm going to write more about the neighbors. Toodledoo, motherfucker.**

**Also this little kid on tv looks like he should be playing a child version of Robert Sheehan.**

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"Good God, Matthew, could you keep it down? I'm on the phone here!" Kaylee yelled vaguely towards him.

Matthew was watching hockey _again_. However, she had to admit, the earsplitting (well, maybe not quite) levels at which he listened to the game were much more preferable to the sound of him chopping down her weeping fig tree, and later apparently trying to "fix" various things around the house, and complaining about how little trees there were in her apartment.

Somehow, although she didn't know how, she'd managed to knock him out of Manada mode when she'd accidentally dropped the maple syrup, spilling it all over the floor. For a few hectic minutes she swore he'd been trying to lick it off the floor. But hey, that was life with Matthew. He was desperately cute and rape-able one minute, so dominating it hurt the next, and licking fucking syrup off the floor. Speaking of syrup, she needed to buy some more- it was running out like crazy in her house. She marked this down onto her shopping list, and went out into the living room.

Since she'd been living with him for nearly a year, it was perfectly acceptable for her to stare at him, right? RIGHT? He was a marvel of the universe, he was, and he was all hers.

Because she locked the doors every night. And the windows. So he couldn't escape, you know. She didn't know if he knew he was trapped yet or not. Once, she had forgotten to lock the front door, and he'd gone out drinking and came back in Manada mode. So yes, he probably had no idea.

She wasn't crazy.

It was perfectly acceptable to want to keep your possessions safe and in your care.

She was _not_ crazy.

He was looking at her now, casting furtive glances back and forth from her to the television. He was so adorable.

"Maaaatthew, are you hungry?" she called to him, lounging on the end of the couch and wearing his hoodie.

"N-no, I'm fine thank you." he stuttered nervously.

Adorable.

"Are you sure? I could make some poutine..."

"Oh? Poutine?"

He loved the stuff.

"Yep."

"I-in that case, yeah, I'll have some." He said, smiling.

She didn't even know what poutine was.

Later, in the kitchen, she just poured maple syrup into a glass and stuck a straw in it. It was poutine, sure, sure it was.

When she gave it to him, he stared at it for a long time. But he drank it, in the end.

In the end, everything turned out okay.

It always turned out okay.

Cancer, you'd die.

Your dog died? You can get a new one.

Schizophrenia?

Well, you can't have everything.

She couldn't, of course not, nothing ever worked out for her.

Except Matthew.

He was the light of her life, the jelly to her peanut butter, the whip to her whistle.

She was not crazy.

He was the most perfect human being-oh, human. Well, whatever. He was the most perfect person she'd ever met. He didn't judge her, he didn't give her wierd looks when the voices made her mutter back to them. He didn't yell at her when she had one of her screaming fits- he held her, he waited. He was perfect.

And he was hers.

Forever.

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**A/N In case you didn't get it - _SHE CRAZAYYY._**


	6. LAQUONDA!

**A/N More neighbors. ****

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LaQuonda was _hungry._ She hadn't been this hungry since the time she'd gotten lost in the ghetto! She blinked two chocolate-brown eyes up at the underside of the stairs. LaQuonda lived under the stairs, in case ya'll didn't notice.

She liked it under there. It was nice and breezy, and the triangular shape of the entrance room was beautiful. Little did the residents of the apartment know, LaQuonda had more than just that.

She'd been there forever, in her little Harry Potter-esque cupboard, so she'd had plenty of time to expand. As she wasn't exactly renting the place, it was fine, right?

She had dug a trap door into the corner, which unfolded into the floor and revealed stairs. Underneath was what most people called beautiful. Rich, luxorious carpet. Silk wallpaper. Tons of space. Well-lit. Seven rooms underneath her little cupboard, but she avoided going into them if she had to.

She liked her cupboard, LaQuonda did. Plus, she didn't want to be reminded that her dead cousin used to be- gasp! A pimp!

He'd left her all his pimpin' money when he'd died, and it was LaQuonda's mother's idea to send LaQuonda on a two-week-long vacation to remodel her home. When she had returned, LaQuonda shot that bad bitch down. Nobody messed with LaQuonda's cupboard, not even her momma!

LaQuonda might not own the cupboard, but she worked in the apartment as a cleaning lady. The only cleaning lady, in fact. It was a lonely job, but if she was lucky one of the residents would leave their door unlocked and she would get to rummage through their personal belongings. It was almost like having real friends!

In particular, she liked the apartment of The Sock Dealer. Not one bit of the wall was visible in it's home; the entire thing was taken up by socks. Fuzzy socks, ankle socks, all kinds of socks. LaQuonda had a thing for socks. She wished sometimes that she was brave enough to talk to The Sock Dealer, (be it a man or woman) because since they both liked socks they might be friends.

However, today LaQuonda was supposed to clean the pool area. The apartment folk usually left it a mess; towels laying about, chairs scattered and rearranged. LaQuonda was _not_ lookin' forward to it. Luckily, her breakfast today was her favorite food: cheese in a can. LaQuonda licked the tip of the can in what she was sure must be a _damn_ sexy manner and replaced the cap. Delicious. Almost as good as LaQuonda's favorite food, fried chicken.

She put on her favorite apron. It had kittens embroidered on it. She sauntered out of her hot cupboard. Oh man, if only there were some _fiiiiiine _boys at the pool, lookin' at her in her kitten apron, it would just make her day. Especially that sexy piece of man in 203.

Except he was gay.

But it didn't matter! LaQuonda could make any man fall in love, she had a big ghetto booty and she was also super fine. She knew because her momma told her this before she died.

Sadly, her dreams were crushed as she arrived at the pool to find only that crazy schizo bitch from 205, sitting in the hot tub and apparently muttering to a beach ball.

"Hmm, mm. That po' child." LaQuonda thought to herself. "Talkin' to balls, po' thang, po' thang." She shook her head sadly, and began picking up the slightly damp towels that were draped over like twelve chairs.

The muttering got louder, and LaQuonda turned to see the girl staggering up to her, with a crazed look in her eyes. Time to book it! LaQuonda ain't messin' with no crazies!

The girl suddenly fell to the floor, and started screaming. LaQuonda didn't know what to do! Luckily, she was saved from that predicament as a fiiiiine guy came sprinting in. He grabbed the screaming girl in his arms and whispered soothingly into her ear. The screaming gradually quieted, and the boy looked up at her.

Dayum he fine.

"You'd better get out of here." he said to LaQuonda quietly. "She hates kittens."

LaQuonda booked it.

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**A/N _SHE HATES KITTENS._**


	7. it's the low, before the high

**A/N I feel like, after writing about LaQuonda, nothing else can even come close to being as awesome as +her. So, sorry if I disappoint everyone ;_;****

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Her room was white, a beautiful white, lovely white, because she hated black. She hated black, and she hated aprons, and she hated kittens. She loved white, white, white, and Matthew. He was the only one who believed her, he was the only one who cared.

Speak of the devil.

"Kaylee? Are you maybe hungry? You haven't eaten all day..." said his worried voice. He made her toes tingle, made her nose twitch, made every day worth living.

"No, no, I'm okay. Tell me a story, Matthew."

She loved his stories. He painted such vivid pictures in her head, she could almost imagine being there.

"Mmm, okay. Once, there was a girl. She had pretty, light hair, and the greenest eyes you've ever seen. She was smart, and she was beautiful, but not a whole lot of people understood her..." His voice lulled her to sleep, like every single day; his slow, rhythmic voice making her head nod, making her eyes shut.

* * *

It was was black, **black,** and she couldn't find Matthew.

A part of her told her she needed to stay calm, and think it out, but the other part kept magnifying the fact that there was **black fucking everywhere** and _she couldn't find Matthew. _Keep calm, keep calm, stop fucking thinking.

She got out of her bed and stumbled over to the lightswitch, trying to keep some sort of a grip on herself. "Matthew?" she called, a note of hysteria in her voice.

"M-Matthew, where are you?" she tentatively called out again as she reached out to flick the switch.

It didn't work.

No, no, no, no, no, no, **NO. **This was **not** fucking happening. It couldn't be black. She needed Matthew, she needed him right now.

"Matthew!" she called a bit louder, the fright very evident in her voice now. "Matthew, I _need_ you!"

Where was he!

She **NEEDED **him or they... they were going to...

"MATTHEW!"

There was full-on panic in her voice now. She couldn't move from the spot, something kept the nerves in her feet from being able to connect to her brain and she couldn't think straight and it was still so **b-l-a-c-k** and she didn't know where Matthew was and she needed him because he was the only one that could save her and- She was suddenly aware of a harsh shrieking that was interrupting her thoughts, and then she realized it was her.

Like a deep breath of pure oxygen, inhaled joyfully as she'd been under the water for only a second too long, he was there. He held her in his arms, and a small, sane (maybe it was insane, she couldn't even tell anymore) part of her remarked on the fact that the pair seemed to end up like this alarmingly often.

He whispered to her, and he stroked her hair, and she started crying because she couldn't be wonderful like him. She was always ruining things, black was always ruining things. She wanted badly to be normal. She knew it took a toll on Matthew, but she was so fucked up that most of her didn't even care. She knew he thought her tears were just from the black, from the breakdown, from everything that made her into the person she didn't want to be. She also knew that he'd never know the real reason for her tears, because if he did, then he'd know that he'd be better off without her, and he would leave her.

She couldn't let him do that.

She used to think that maybe, locking the doors would help.

Matthew had the keys to everything all along.

She used to think that she was the one taking care of Matthew.

He was the one who took care of her.

She thought of all the times she'd been a burden to him: Every second of every day. She didn't have a claim to anything useful in her life. She'd long since stopped going to her classes. There went her dream of becoming a lawyer. Her dream that was so far-off now.

She'd never, ever be anything important.

Maybe, if she was normal, she could take care of Matthew for a change. She could actually bring in some fucking income to the household.

She could actually love him without her own selfish thoughts getting in the way.

Her own brain rebelled against her.

She was worthless. She didn't deserve Matthew, and yet, she could never let go of him.

* * *

He kept stroking her hair long after she stopped whimpering. She was safe now, sleeping in his arms. He leaned against the chilly wall, and hummed softly as he inhaled her smell. She was... a handful. But in a way, Matthew liked being depended on, for once, without the dependee just using him.

He knew he didn't have to put up with her.

But he loved her. She was, on her good days, the most carefree person. And her smile, oh, her smile. It could melt the heart of anything, and it had long since melted his.

He was sticking with her.

* * *

**A/N Yay, Kaylee is crazy AGAIN. Way to go, Kaylee, you schizo motherfucker :0**


	8. The end

**A/N Got writer's block on this story so I'm going to kill everyone lololol**

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**

As LaQuonda walked through the grey, still-warm ashes of what used to be her home, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She was the only one that had survived the bombing, thanks to her solid-gold walls which somehow managed to keep her safe, but she almost wished that she had died.

Alongside the rest of the residents.

She couldn't remember anything, except coming up the stairs to see that her upper floor was blown apart. There was nothing there at all anymore, and there was certainly no sign that anyone else had even set foot in the smoldering mess.

All of them, dead.

She didn't know how or why the building was bombed. She had only known that everything she lived for, everyone she loved was gone.

Even that crazy bitch who hated kittens.

They were almost her family. She knew almost every aspect of their daily lives, even though the way she'd come about all that information wasn't the most traditional way to get to know a person.

But still, it felt like a little part of her was torn apart. Ripped out of her heart, spat and stomped on until it was mush.

So she had packed her bags with what little she had left. Her kitten apron. A can of cheez-whiz. A bottle of bleach.

As she tiptoed her way through the wreckage, she suddenly stopped, bent down, and picked something up.

It was a burnt, bright-blue sock.

The tears came freely as LaQuonda tucked the last reminder of her favorite home into her bag, and left.

* * *

**A/N BOOM. Sorry I made everyone die. But honestly, I changed my WHOLE PERSPECTIVE on EVERYTHING, ALMOST. I don't even like Alfred a whole bunch anymore. And I couldn't think what to write about for anyone else. I guess I could have written about the gay guy in 203, but LaQuonda was and always will be my favorite character, and it's easiest to write about her :3**

**I'll be writing more stories in the future with LaQuonda making small appearances, too. Mostly stories about England huehuehuehue because England is _damn _sexy. So yeah. It's been a fun time, guys, hope you enjoyed this story.**


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